Ain’t No Other Man

Angel

Serena Horvath. Sounds Hungarian. I remember Damian telling me his mother’s family was Hungarian, so maybe Miss Horvath is looking for someone with a cultural link. Whatever she’s looking for, she’ll need to find it elsewhere.

The beautiful brunette strolls toward our table and stops at Damian’s left with intention. The look on her face is comical when she realizes her name isn’t there. She glares at me, and I’m struggling to keep a straight face.

A normal person might fake nice and say something like, “Oh, Serena, so nice to have you sitting with us.” I’m not a ‘normal’ person.

“Your seat’s over here, Serena. Next to me.” I don’t flash a fake smile, but I do flash a victorious one. I almost feel bad for her because Damian wasn’t exactly forthcoming, but she was snarky with me for no justifiable reason. Other than jealousy. Which is what makes me not feel bad.

She glares at me from her hazel eyes. “I think there’s been a mix up.”

“No mix up. I asked Damian to switch seats with me.”

Damian’s eyes widen as he looks at me with an amused smirk. I shrug in response. Something tells me Serena isn’t used to other people being straightforward.

“Well, thanks for ruining my evening.” Serena strolls over to her seat, looking every bit the socialite I get the impression she dreams of being.

It’s harder to suppress my giggles with each opening of her mouth.

“Now, that’s not fair. You haven’t taken a moment to get to know me. Why would you assume I ruined your evening?” This is a question I’m genuinely curious about. Because of my former job? My income level? Or just because I’m here with the man she’s interested in?

“You’re a waitress,” she spits. As if she’s not sitting here tonight waiting for servers to bring her food. Somehow they’re allowed to breathe the same air as her to cater to her, but not sit beside her.

“Correction, I was a waitress, but even if I still was, what would be wrong with that?” I’ve never understood people who look down their noses at others on account of their job. Though, I’ve been guilty of making assumptions about people before, too.

“Just don’t speak to me for the rest of the evening, waitress.”

I roll my eyes and turn to face Damian. “Gladly.”

He chuckles and leans in to whisper, “See why I was afraid of being honest with her?”

She doesn’t seem like a rational person. Maybe it’s wrong of me to judge her based on our limited interaction, but she’s shown herself to be a spoiled little rich girl thus far. She judged me before I said a single word.

I commit to ignoring Serena as the rest of the guests fill our table, each greeting us with a terse smile or a nod. I don’t belong here. Damian places his hand on my bouncing knee under the table, which reminds me that he asked me here. He’s the only person at this table whose opinion I care about.

Damian strikes up a conversation with the balding gentleman beside him, Mr. Klein, introducing me as his girlfriend again. This is going to take some getting used to. It turns out Mr. Klein was one of Damian’s first bosses and took him under his wing when he was fresh out of university. My decision to switch seats makes me even happier now.

Mr. Klein speaks past Damian to me. “So what do you do, Miss Blake?”

“Graphic design pays my bills, but mostly I’m a dedicated dog servant.” I had noticed dog hair on the man’s wrinkled suit jacket and took a wild guess that he’d be content to discuss topics other than work. Even his facial expressions and demeanour appear far more relaxed than other people here.

I’m rewarded by his deep belly laugh.

“My wife and I have two dalmatians. Both of them think they’re lap dogs, so I can relate. They each have their own personalities that make it hard not to love them.” He looks at his wife with a glimmer in his eye that would make me “aww” if it didn’t remind me so much of my parents.

Now is not the time for a trip down my traumatic memory lane.

“How sweet. They must be a lot of fun. Mine is an American bully, and she puts the ‘bull’ in bull-headed. It didn’t take her long to learn how to manipulate Damian to do anything she wanted.”

Mr. Klein claps Damian on the back. “She’s a keeper, son. I’m happy for you. It’s nice to see you finally settling down.”

I choke on the wine I’m attempting to swallow at the mention of “settling down”. Damian and I have been in an official relationship for thirty minutes. Long-term plans haven’t come up quite yet. He doesn’t seem fazed by the comment, though.

“Thank you, Bill. I have no intention of letting this one go.”

That surprises me almost as much. Not that I got the impression Damian wasn’t serious, but him saying it out loud is different from an assumption. I’m staring at him with one eyebrow raised, which earns me a smirk and a wink. Suddenly, a sharp elbow digs in my back. It was too hard and for too long to be accidental.

“Ow!” I turn to face the offender. “Was that necessary? You don’t like me, fine. I’m not your biggest fan either. But this event is for doctors doing life-saving work, not for airing your petty grievances. Grow up.”

Once again, Serena seems surprised by my words. I gather she’s used to people shrinking back and catering to her every whim. Sorry, not sorry, Miss Horvath. The only living thing that makes me bend to her whims is Genie, and I’m pretty sure she’d have been better behaved. I’d be more forgiving if Serena stuck her face in my plate to steal my dinner or drooled on my dress.

“Little girl, you have some nerve talking to me like that.”

Fair assessment. Serena towers over me, probably measuring in around five-nine, but I’m not the one acting like a little girl.

“Like what? How you deserve after elbowing me in the back? I have no interest in arguing with you, but I’m not interested in being abused at the dinner table, either. I respected your wishes not to speak to you, so respect mine and rein in your tantrum.”

Damian places a hand on my shoulder before leaning around me to address Serena. “Don’t do this, Serena. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Myself? I’m embarrassing myself?” She scoffs, then raises her voice so others at the table can hear her. “You’re the one who showed up at this event with a waitress. You should be embarrassed.”

Why is there always some petty girl who wants a guy she can’t have and has to try to get in the way? Is dignity a thing of the past? Or is it not common in higher tax brackets? Why on Earth would anyone want to waste their time pursuing someone who isn’t interested in them? A complete waste of life, if you ask me.

Damian responds before I can. “Serena, I was trying to spare your feelings, so I wasn’t honest with you, and that’s on me. But after you treated my girlfriend how you have, I’m not concerned about your feelings anymore. I wasn’t interested in you romantically. Ever. Nor will I ever be. I knew from the first day we met that you were the epitome of everything I dislike that comes along with social status and money. You perpetuate a stereotype that I want no part of.” Damian slides his chair back to stand and reaches a hand toward me. “So, if you’ll excuse us, I think I’ll take my girlfriend somewhere we can enjoy the evening. Alone.” Once I take his hand and grab my clutch from the table, he pulls me to his side. “Mr. Klein, Mrs. Klein, enjoy your evening. I apologize for the drama.”

With just enough time for me to examine Serena’s expression—which is a combination of a gaping mouth and narrowed eyes—Damian leads me toward the exit, stopping for a brief second to drop a cheque in the box for donations.

The second the fresh air hits us as we exit the building, I feel guilty. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Damian hands his ticket to the valet with his eyes focused on me. “Don’t be sorry. You were right. I should have been honest with her. I’m the one who needs to be sorry for putting you in that situation.” He scans our surroundings before leaning in to whisper, “But it was so hot seeing you tell her off.”

I swat his chest. “Damian, stop. I don’t know what came over me. She turned me into a savage and it was hard to keep from clawing her eyes out.”

He grabs my hips, pulling me flush against him. “You were perfect. You’re always perfect.”

When our lips meet, the irritation I carried outside with me disappears. The faint sounds of conversation inside the open doors, the damp autumn air, the elaborate lights draped underneath the carriage porch, all fade away. My senses become consumed by Damian’s scent, his taste, the sounds of his soft moans as his hands run over my body.

A voice clearing behind me startles us apart. Damian smiles and now my sense of sight is lost in him, too.

“The valet is waiting. Let’s go.”

Damian drives from the venue, back to my place, and I invite him in since we weren’t gone as long as I had expected.

First order of business when we get inside is to get comfortable. Damian undoes his bowtie and the top buttons on his shirt. He throws his suit jacket over the arm of my sofa and rolls up his sleeves. He’s still half dressed in a tux, but he looks casual. Natural. Like he belongs here. Genie climbs up on the sofa once he sits down, so with her to keep him company, I duck into my bedroom to swap out my dress for pyjamas.

The rest of the night is just as I could have hoped. Comfortable in Damian’s presence, with no one but Genie to interfere.